


The Good Doctor

by CrazyIndigoChild



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Choking, Doctor AU, Doctor!Keith, Keith whump, M/M, Pediatrician!Keith, SHEITH - Freeform, TW: Blood, Things up butts, Tw: mention of vomit, We'll see the others soon, doctor!shiro, violence later
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-09
Updated: 2019-04-14
Packaged: 2019-07-10 09:49:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,545
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15946865
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CrazyIndigoChild/pseuds/CrazyIndigoChild
Summary: Doctors Keith and Shiro are doing business as normal but sometimes Keith's curiosity gets the better of him and he finds himself in need of a doctor himself.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So I'm trying my hand at an AU that's near and dear to my heart: DOCTORS! I'm picking up an old project I had been working on and I hope you like it too!

"The second my shift's over I'm gonna track down the asshole that thought a 'clearance cookout' was a good idea and… and… God who does that?!" The critic, a sulking vomit-catch wrangling an orange scrub top, shuffled into the lounge. Hardly through the doors and his shirt was a sour ball in the laundry hamper, partial nudity be damned; he just wanted to stop smelling like semi-digested Bjorn's hotdogs for four minutes. "And who eats at a clearance cookout!"

At the rounded kitchen table, feet kicked up onto the chair beside him, Matt stared at the same page of the magazine he'd been scrupulously inspecting through dark sunglasses for the past fifteen minutes. In front of him squatted a frozen cup of coffee and from his mouth clung a half-eaten Break-Fast bar. Eyeing him closely it was tough to decide which was more insulting: that he was only four hours into his shift or that he was holding the magazine upside down.

Cookouts may have been ruined, trampled, stomped into the dirt, and vomited on repeatedly, but breakfast foods and all its children were untouchable. So he kindly relieved Matt of the burden and scarfed down the stale cereal bar on his way to the coffee pot.

Another victim, different door: Pidge kicked through the doors from the locker room, rocking no pants as she meandered over to the coffee pot to wait for the last of the brew to trickle out. "This happens too often--"

"I just don't like pants, Shiro. What do you want from me?"

Nothing, now that he had his answer. The follow-up question was whether she had eyes on the last of the back-up reserve emergency scrubs on the table: the only set left. Scrub mishaps were common for Pidge and in her short time here had learned to rock some men's XL scrubs. They may have been brothers-in-arms but he'd put her in the ground for a fresh shirt.

And then, at the stroke of 5:55 (make a wish! He was hoping for a coma), the doors to the lounge peeled open and graced his bleary eyes with the shining fresh-faced wonder that was the day staff: the heroes Shiro needed but not the ones he deserved for another four hours. Among them was a five-foot-five-inch tall banana covered in smaller smiling bananas. That banana was Keith, the emergency paediatric physician.

"Heard you had a rough night. I almost feel bad for putting my phone on silent." If he wasn't having flashbacks to one of his patients exploding from both ends he might have tried to laugh. Instead he focused on not spilling his coffee when Keith sidled up next to him, sipping at his usual carton of chocolate milk. "Oh, Pidge, I brought those spares you asked for."

Shiro just barely stepped away to avoid Keith being knocked up against the counter while Pidge ripped through his backpack to get to the goods: a fresh peach scrub set that Shiro was automatically drooling over. He'd bet money that it was washed with fabric softener too. "You're a life saver, Keith."

"I'll put it on your tab."

Too big for the tab was Shiro-- but Keith was more than ready to offer a Winnie the Pooh set he might be able to squeeze into. And as generous and fun (and clean) as that sounded he had to politely decline: most of his patients were adults, and Matt was supposed to be on the floor for the rest of his shift and he didn't need that kind of drama in his life. The ruddy-brown emergency backup pair it would be.

Unlike most of the staff Keith's locker was out in the lounge rather than inside the locker room. After being the 'newbie' for two years and never complaining about the locale he settled with everyone being able to see into his lockup every time he went to grab a change of clothes. Not that there was much to see except a few pictures of him and his patients as well as a 'thank you' card or two. Oh and more stuffed animals and candy than any grown man should legally own.

"Alright, let's get to it then." Shiro looked up in time to see Keith finish pinning his nametag to his shirt. Dr. K. Kogane sounded weirdly official on a man who regularly wore pastels and knew what kids show was playing on PBS at any given time of the day. "…Shiro you look like you're about to keel. Do you want me to page you when I spot a trauma coming in?"

Joke's on Keith, Shiro's Sunday morning default was keeling over. He grumbled into his coffee and waved off Keith's offer; there were too many patients to stop now and what was four more hours of trying to keep his eyes open? "I don't know how you manage to be so awake this early," he said instead, pointing to a couple interns and med students shuffling through, some of them stopping to steal a cup of jet fuel from the coffee pot.

Shoving his stethoscope into his pocket Keith closed his locker and tied back his hair with the elastic around his wrist. "When I was doing my rotation in internal medicine my mentor once told me that there are three Cs to being a good doctor: caffeine, crack, and crazy good sex." Grabbing his milk carton off the table he gave it a quick swirl and knocked it back, tossing the carton into the recycling.

Whichever of the two he had going Shiro would take ten. Coffee just wasn't cutting that kind of edge.

"It's definitely crack," Pidge grumbled when she barely squeezed half a cup of coffee after the vultures that were med students. Shiro had to admit that the peach set looked rather cute on her, even if she was starting fired with the looks she was giving Kinkade across the room. A gulp of coffee later and she was following Keith out to the battlefield.

Shiro tugged up his bootstraps, threw on the clean top, and stared down the rest of his 12 hour shift. "7am, we got this. Come on, Matt."

"I'm reading an article."


	2. Let me speak to your manager

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! Long time no post, eh? Well I don't anticipate it being much longer. I'm pretty determined to get this out! I love doctor AU so much!

"… And can you roar like a lion?"

"Grr."

Weak. Keith pulled away from his patient, a curly-headed little darling with deep dimples he was sure she knew how to use. A mischievous toothy grin to match, to give her a decidedly sassy look. "What was that? Come on, I know you've got a good one in there. Let's do it together, on three. One. Two… three!"

Across the emergency department about a half-dozen curtained rooms roared; doctor, patient, mom, and bored bed-warmers alike. From the nurse's station Hunk hollered at them to control their animals, but he knew Hunk wasn't really complaining. Lions made for less paperwork. "What a good roar, everyone," he called, tucking his stethoscope away in his pocket and tugging down her bumblebee sweater. The transformer. Nice. "And you, Emily, don't have laryngitis. Looks like a mean chest cold to me, Mom."

Emily's mom was… all business, to put it one way. The kind of parent that, when the thermometer hit 99, had every doctor in the city's spidey-sense tingling. A true doctor's Karen. She'd been kind enough to play along with his antics but now she looked ready to rip his prescription pad out his pocket. "So… what? Antibiotics?"

"Nope. Good news is it'll clear up on its own with some rest, fluids, and maybe a day or two off from school. But I she's not on the mend by next week I'd follow up with her GP." She didn't look pleased for what, in Keith's humble opinion, was one of the better diagnoses he could give. Clearly Emily's mom wasn't too thrilled about sitting in the ER for four hours to hear her kid's got a cough. "Well that was a waste," she griped, throwing her hands in her lap, "I want a second opinion."

Karen-mode activated. "Look, Mrs. Walsh, even if it _was_ laryngitis-- which trust me it isn't-- she wouldn't be getting antibiotics anyway. She's got a viral infection and antibiotics won't do anything for her. It's like treating a broken leg with a vaccine. The next _five_ doctors will tell you the same thing."

"I'll wait for them, then."

Deep breath. He gently reminded himself that he couldn't treat stupid, and he wasn't above helping someone waste their own time. "Of course. I'll grab a colouring book and some crayons for the wait." The rubber of his glove snapped and flopped into the garbage can on his way out and to the Nurse's station to nab a Disney colouring book and a six-pack of red and green crayons. And a lozenge in case the ER got busy; it sucked enough that his patient had to sit there while the rest of the night's gastro-disaster finished clearing out their pipes.

It was only luck that he'd spotted his attending stalking out of the trauma rooms, talking in tongues while a ruffled Shiro followed close behind, burning notes onto the chart with a pen too standard to keep up. When they turned for the elevators Keith could kiss his second opinion goodbye.

But Karen… "Coran! Wait, if you could just--"

"Can't right now, Keith, I'm expected upstairs in… half an hour ago."

Welp. Guess Emily's getting the day off school then. "I can help if you'd like." It was Shiro who offered, trying to multitask and get everything down before his pen burst. "I am your _chief resident_ after all." The waggle of his eyebrows was a tad much.

"You didn't get the position yet," Keith noted dryly.

That was either the right or the wrong thing to say because it had Shiro straightening up with a bright flush creeping out his collar. "I-- well I mean it's not official yet. But the paperwork is going through."

"Oh cool. Congrats, man."

"Thank you, Keith." For what he'd offered, Shiro's reaction sounded more than a touch too genuine, enough that he'd almost felt guilty. But, then, he'd never known Shiro to be any different. Actually Keith was _sure_ Shiro did it on purpose, and if he didn't then he was a smart shmuck and Keith had to respect that at least. "Now, you needed Coran for a consult?"

"On my six year-old patient," Keith confirmed, thankful for the change in topic as they fell in step, " she has a viral chest infection like the sky is blue, but Mom wants meds."

A low whistle. "I don't blame her. My ex had an eight year-old and the day after she caught a sinus infection I was ready to drop some serious drugs."

"Eight? How old are you again?"

But Shiro was already pulling back Emily's curtain and jumped right into introducing himself, holding out his hand for the young Ms. Walsh like a dweeb. It worked, and Mom liked the change in pace… and in view. Shiro took the chart from Keith and tutted over the lab work, stealing glances at the girl as he went along. "Alrighty, little lady, can you sit up for me?"

Maybe for the audience, but Shiro went through each step of the examination with meticulous care; listening to her chest, peering down the back of her throat, temperature, all the mundane and redundant stops. It was a performance, no doubt, since the too-serious look on Shiro's face was definitely a resting expression Keith had seen him give the vending machine a few times. A smug grin tugged at the corner of his mouth, but he'd already learned that lesson too many times and shut that down real fast.

"Is the cough always this wet?"

She sat up straighter: the hot doctor was talking. "It started off dry and then got wet. It keeps her up all night, it's honestly they worst thing!"

Done with his exam he leaned back to give the girl a final once-over; "I'll bet my left thumb that was you roaring earlier." Shy, but with a small smile that screamed trouble, Emily nodded. "Well, looks to me like an upper respiratory infection. At this stage antibiotics would do more harm than good, and she seems to be giving it a run for its money." The patient giggled when Shiro's finger came up to gently flick her nose. "Give her until Saturday and if it doesn't get any better bring her back right away and we'll help her along."

The mother visibly relaxed and Keith wanted to eat his entire fucking fist. " _Of course_ , thank you doctor."

"My pleasure. Now I'm sure you've been here a while so I'll leave you two to be on your way and get some rest." And thus ended the almighty second opinion, with another shake with the young Ms. Walsh and a nod to mom's swooning thanks. Keith followed Shiro out to head back to the safety of the nurse's station.

"Sometimes with parents you have to dress it up, make it seem like they didn't just waste eight hours of their life over a cold," Shiro explained, quickly scribbling his notes. Keith checked and they were the closest thing to 'same' as he could professionally manage.

"Okay, _doctor_ , how do I dress up bedrest and cough syrup?"

"Amount, frequency-- throw in a couple technical-sounding words. Like one cup of citrus tea three times daily with, I dunno, Dimetapp or whatever they make for kids. Bedrest is fancy enough, anything else is just above our paygrade." And his lesson concluded with the swipe of a yellow sucker from Keith's breast pocket.

"You could sell air to a fish, you know that?"

The sucker clacked against his teeth when Shiro rolled it to the side to flash him what was undoubtedly a fan-favourite smile. "Maybe I could sell you on dinner instead? I know a really great Indian restaurant downtown."

Hm. Sounded way out of his budget and a subway trip he didn't particularly care to take after a long day. But someone like Shiro wouldn't have any trouble finding a dinner date, so Keith didn't feel particularly guilty about making him work a bit for his dinner plans. "What are the technical-sounding words for that?"

Shiro's smile stuttered moment, his sucker drooping a little. True to fashion Shiro took it in stride; "A Southeast Asian dinner event?"

"Huh." Keith leaned over to scribble his signature to complete the co-sign on the discharge. He could hear his asthma kid rattling on in curtain three; someone hadn't been keeping to the nebulizer. "Sorry, I have _legumes and grains_ to eat at home. Excuse me."

Shiro barely had a moment to react before Keith was snatching the chart off the rack and stalking over to his patient with a "Hey, you!" to kick off his lecture on listening to doctors' orders.

"Wow. Yeah, that's rough."

"Can it, Hunk."

"Fine, you've got a displaced hip in Trauma 2."

Tossing his sucker in the trash, Shiro gathered his pride and shuffled to the back where Matt was doing his best to tackle a 60-something year-old on heroin. He didn't even look up from preparing the Narcan when Matt asked about his dinner plans.


End file.
